


Anniversary

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Anniversary, Frank Castle is a Repressed Idiot, M/M, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 00:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Frank thinks about how good Micro is to him on the morning of their first anniversary.





	Anniversary

After a year, Frank knows that Micro doesn't expect terribly much of him when it comes to sentimental shit. They've worked together for long enough before either of them -- or, well, at least before  _ Frank _ \-- cared enough to be paying attention to benchmarks and holidays, so by this point Micro knows that Frank doesn't give a shit about his birthday or Christmas. He only marks holidays as days that throw off what stores he can hit for supplies, Christmas Day and New Years the worst of the lot because all but everything shuts down.

Frank's not sure exactly how long they've been working together. Long enough, he supposes, to know each other in that certain way that lets you move silently around one another in routine without the silence feeling like anything, handing each other off little things they need to make their day easier. Frank rises early, Micro stays up late, but they don't disturb each other getting in and out of whatever they're using for a bed; Frank makes coffee and Micro sets out sugar even though Frank's the only one of the two who uses it. Long before there were rings involved, they were deeply wound up in each other's routine, matched.

Micro will expect nothing from Frank. Hell, he'll expect less than nothing -- he'd been shocked when Frank remembered his birthday a few months back, and Frank hadn't done anything more for it than cook him breakfast and say 'happy birthday' after kissing him good morning. 

Frank doesn't mind low expectations. It doesn't feel like a slight to have someone know him well enough to understand that sentiment doesn't play too much into his life most times. 

In a way, there being low -- or nonexistent -- expectations for him today makes it better, because it means even if he flubs it, Micro will at least give him points for trying. That's one of the things that makes Frank so helplessly fond of Micro; he's so damn understanding of Frank that it's like living with a mind reader. Even when he gets frustrated by Frank's stubbornness or taciturn refusal to talk about something Micro wants to have out, Micro is more patient with Frank than Frank deserves.

Micro takes care of Frank. Frank does his best to return the favour, but there's uncountable ways in which Micro is more capable than Frank. Frank's got muscle and determination, he's got the stamina to take a beating and then get back up and dish one out thrice as hard in retaliation. Frank can  _ protect _ Micro, but all the little things that keep them both comfortable, that makes it feel worthwhile to keep fighting, that's on Micro. Micro takes care of him.

When they got married, it wasn't much more than exchanging rings before a gathering of the very limited number of folks they cared to include in their personal business. Precious few in that count, and so no need for anything fiddly or elaborate. Frank would have done it in private, the same day they'd decided it was a thing they both wanted, but Linus wanted there to be some kind of engagement. Time to plan, time to feel the idea out -- time, Frank understood but didn't comment on for a number of reasons, for Frank to change his mind.

Not a man given over much to regret, Frank does wish he could pin down better how long they've been working together, wishes he could mark the hallmarks of their relationship. First job, first all-nighter, first kiss, first fuck -- all the firsts, he wishes he could remember any of them better, because he figures they  _ do _ , in a certain way, matter. They matter because somewhere in there they'd committed themselves to each other with a fervent sort of devotion, something that had nothing to do with the sex, something that kept them together, a perfectly functioning little unit, in spite of every rocky patch and every hardship. 

Frank is a man who takes things. He takes Micro's time, and his efforts, and his ideas; he takes his blood, his sweat, his frustrated, worried tears. Frank takes his affection, his passion; he takes his care and in return he does his job and comes back to Micro over and over again, bloody, bruised, busted up, kisses him and thanks him in whatever physical way he can. Long before they'd been married, Micro'd had Frank just about every way a man can have another man, because Frank takes everything Micro's willing to give, having nothing to return but himself. 

He has no idea when he fell in love with Linus. Maybe that's true both ways; he doesn't know and he won't ask. He doesn't remember what their first kiss had been like, or their first fuck, or the first time they'd let themselves fall asleep in bed together. He knows that it hit him in waves, soft at first, easy to push aside, and then overwhelming, fundamental, love so deep it was part of ever look he gave the man, every word he spoke. He doesn't know when it happened, and he supposes it doesn't matter, not really. 

It doesn't matter, because a year ago he pushed a ring onto Linus's finger and told him he'd protect this thing between them, this love, with everything he had, forever. A year ago they stood together and said it was eternal -- Micro hated that 'til death' sentiment.

That's the day that Frank can start counting against, the making of that promise, public and open. 

Micro knows Frank incredibly well by this point, and because he knows him so well, he'll expect nothing from Frank to commemorate this day, because he knows Frank's not a sentimental man. He barely remembers his own birthday, and Micro is too understanding, so he wouldn't even mind this first anniversary slipping by unremarked.

Which, Frank hopes, will make it all the nicer when Frank kisses him good morning and gives him his present. Because Micro deserves more than Frank gives him, he deserves to be cared for, he deserves to be treasured and cherished for all he puts up with, for all the tender care he gives to Frank.

He's not good at wrapping things. That's why he's up before six, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of the patterned, glossy paper and tape it down well enough that it looks like a gift and not a vaguely rectangular piece of trash. He'd spent a few weeks agonizing over what to get, the whole situation so overtly sentimental it had felt upsettingly foriegn to bother with, but there was also a strange kind of excitement to putting in the effort. To taking the time to do something that was just about making his husband happy.

It's not a hardship for Frank to go out of his way to make this day special -- to plan to make it special every year for the rest of their lives -- because Linus deserves that and so much more.


End file.
